


Escalation

by RhineGold



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: (is it really kidnapping if you take them to their own house?), Dead animals, Kidnapping, Prompt Fic, Stalking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 05:41:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29712492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RhineGold/pseuds/RhineGold
Summary: Someone is stalking Mr. Gold.  It’s starting to get to him.
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a Kink Meme prompt. Gold is stalked by an unknown person. 
> 
> Prompt: _“Gold, stalking, possible non-con: Someone is stalking Mr. Gold. Like, really terrorizing him. He can’t figure out who it is. It’s starting to get to him._
> 
> _Go as dark as you want.”_

The first few messages he dismisses. 

A note on his car, left gods-knew how long ago considering how often he uncovered it to drive it - a simple picture of a bird, obviously torn from a children’s book of some kind. A piece of paper under his doormat one afternoon, containing a series of illegible scribbles, blotted out by a pen. A bit of faded newsprint tucked into the rear door of the pawnshop, completely uninteresting, a description of damage from a particularly strong storm and a fraction of outdated horoscopes. 

Mr. Gold does not own a telephone and never receives any mail, so when the messages become letters, his name carefully printed in bold, block lettering, the inserted sheaves of paper completely blank, it is confusing. When the dead bird, the mirror of the image found on his car weeks ago, arrives on his doorstep, he tells himself it is a coincidence, but the gnawing concern begins. 

One day, someone ties a coil of stiff gold ribbon around his door handle in a perfect bow. The next day, one of his beautiful stained glass windows is shattered with something heavy, possibly a bat. He contemplates calling Emma, but what could she do besides get in his way? 

He spends hours watching the doorstep from his curtains, not even bothering to go to the shop that day, but nothing happens.

The next day, he discovers someone has been in the shop. Nothing is missing but things have been deliberately displaced. He cannot be in both places at once, and while he is returning order to his place of business, someone leaves two more birds on his porch. 

When his tires are slashed, Mr. Gold has had enough. He locks his door, intending to head to the shop, to use his phone there and to call the sheriff’s department at last. 

He never makes it out of the driveway.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gold learns the identity of his stalker.

Mid-afternoon sun streams in the windows when Gold returns to consciousness. He can feel it on his face and collarbone, but his eyes are shuttered by a dark strip of cloth. His wrists are bound behind his back with a soft stretch of nylon cord and his left ankle feels heavy and sore. 

Twisting, he manages to lever himself up onto his knees, grimacing against the bolt of pain through his bad leg. He realizes belatedly that his legs are bare when the grain of the wooden floorboards presses into his soft skin. Rolling his shoulders, he ducks his head, disturbed further to realize he is dressed only in his green button-up shirt, only haphazardly fastened. Even his white undershirt, boxers, and socks are missing. Someone has done a thorough job of stripping him, giving him only a small scrap of dignity in the form of a shirt that barely covers his thighs. 

Taking a deep breath, he back-tracks over the morning’s events - the slashed tires, his irritated storm out his front door and into the driveway. His angry steps had masked any other sound, and the prick of something on his neck had barely registered at first. Then he had been falling, his legs going out from under him. There had been a glimpse of dark fabric and nothing more. 

He can’t hear anyone around, but the steady ticking of a clock and the angle of the windows inform him he is inside his parlor, just inside the front door. His gun is in the hall table a few feet away. Shuffling forward, he winces against the pain in his leg, but it his left that ultimately betrays him, jerked taunt, dropping him onto his chest and face. 

Gasping, he realizes his leg is chained to the radiator against the wall. He cannot get away from the sofa and coffee table, let alone to the door to the hall. He wonders if his neighbors were feeling nosy enough to call the Sheriff today, or if that had been a one-time deal under the hopes that he had been murdered. 

Light footsteps make him still, breath catching in his throat as he tries to catalogue the familiarity of the sound. He is twisted onto his side by a gentle, but insistent, hand. Grunting, Gold curls his bad leg away from the person instinctively, braced awkwardly on his left shoulder as a hand smooths over his brow. The hand traces a path upwards, into his hair, and then down, to his throat, where it becomes a bite of fingernails picking at the sore point where the needle had pierced him. 

“I’ve been looking forward to this for so long, Rumpelstiltskin…”

He freezes, body going absolutely still. It is not the use of his name - his real name - that shakes him to the core. It is the lilt of the words, the sweetness of the tone. He knows this voice as well as he knows his own - has never forgotten it, instead, dreamt of it endlessly, longed for it in his deepest, saddest thoughts. But it is so wrong somehow; the softness darkened, the playfulness twisted. 

He can barely breath as that soft hand steals under the loosened collar of his shirt, nails tracing the line of his clavicle with clinical precision. 

“Belle…” He whispers hoarsely, biting back a cry of surprise when her hand clenches up to squeeze his throat.

“No talking, Rumpelstiltskin. Be a good boy now, won’t you? This is going to be fun.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never had much of an idea for a follow up here so I ended the story with this chapter. One day, maybe I'll get the inspiration necessary to carry on?

**Author's Note:**

> I've heard a rumor that Tumblr is starting to delete blogs with pornographic fiction so I'm migrating my fiction blog's works here.


End file.
